Three years later.
Jiang Ding awoke within Zhuzi's soul. At some point, a dull gray stone sphere had appeared in his hand.
Those back home had approved his plan.
Not only that, the Immortal Sect's strategic department and eight mighty cultivators had personally taken it in hand. Drawing on their experience and tens of thousands of years of wisdom, they refined the plan bit by bit. They had also given full consideration to the mindsets of the Horned Demon Race's many great emperors, their political struggles, and the rivalries and alliances between them—
In these matters, the eight mighty cultivators had a wealth of experience. They knew how to read people.
Jiang Ding broke out in a cold sweat the moment he read the revised plan.
He had taken far too much for granted.
If he had gone ahead without understanding the situation, he would likely have been exposed at once. In a great emperor's eyes, he would have been little more than a clown jumping about on a stage.
A great emperor might even watch the clown perform for a while before crushing him with one palm at the height of his triumph. It would be a small pleasure, a touch of color in a long and tedious life.
Never try to scheme against a cultivator of a higher realm when you're in a lower one.
Don't imagine you possess some earthshaking wisdom or ingenious stratagem that lets you look down on others.
Jiang Ding examined himself once more. Safety exists only under the cover of time and space.
*In short, hide as best I can. Don't become famous. Grow quietly. By the time I have no choice but to appear before the strong and face them directly, enough time must have passed for me to possess the strength